Monster
by Kovukono
Summary: The transformation into a thoughtless beast is surprisingly painless for oneself.


**A/N: This is sort of an apology to my subscribers for having not updated for so long. Hopefully it won't last too much longer. This was also written during a class discussing economics . . . Go figure.**

Monster

"I'm a killer. You would call me a murderer. I'll accept either term, either of them are correct as it is. I'm someone who is to be feared, to be cowered in front of. I'm cruel and bestial. Above all else, I don't give a damn about my victims. I honestly never expected to end up here, with my life completely out of my, or anyone else's, control.

"I wasn't always like this. I used to be like you. I used to have morals and scruples and a conscience. I used to believe that it was better to live and let live. I never meant to start killing. It just happened. An argument that was taken too far. I'd slept with his girl or he'd slept with mine, something to that effect. It didn't take long for it to escalate to blows. It didn't take long at all for me to cut his throat. Just an instant of misplaced passion—and it was over.

"I ran, of course. What else could I do? I had just killed someone. They possibly had a life ahead of them. I had never meant to kill him. I realized I had no idea what I had meant to do. All I knew was that it wasn't killing. I ran until I found a place where I thought no one would find me or recognize me, where I would be safe from my crime.

"It took one idle comment for me to kill again. A simple, 'Hey, you look familiar. Do I know you?' Before I knew it, I had snapped his neck and found myself shaking over the body. I had to run again. I prayed that someone, anyone, if they could see me for what I really was, that they would tame this animal I had become.

"The worst thing I could imagine happened. I killed again. Another case of mistaken identity. I wasn't alone, though; I was seen. The witness had run, leaving me to hunt him down on my own. I didn't realize that, more likely than not, he would never tell anyone what I had done; that if I had run from there as well, I would probably never be caught and convicted. Instead, I ran after him. I crept up on him as he slept that night, held him still, and slit his throat in the midst of his sleeping family.

"I left him silently, and as I cleaned the blood off, I realized something—I was excited. It was exhilarating, what I had done. I had never felt more ashamed of my thoughts in my life. I had killed, and I was proud of it. I had murdered someone in cold blood, and found myself smiling. What was I?

"I didn't run that time. I stayed and waited. I spent restless nights, wrestling with myself over what I had done, wishing so much for my old life back. I never wanted to be a killer. I had never, in my life, dreamed that I would end up here. I had never thought that I would dream about killing and enjoy it.

"I began to take long walks by myself, trying to think clearly. I had to do something sometime, I had to introduce myself for who I was; I was starving. I hadn't eaten since I had started running, and had been too terrified to apply for food. More likely than not, I was being searched for to be tried and executed. I didn't want that.

"I found myself alone while walking when I passed someone else. The same thing had been on my mind all the time. I looked around impulsively; we were alone. It was me and him. No one would ever trace me to him, there would be no link at all between me and a random person. I found myself shaking again; what was I thinking? Killing was what got me where I was on the first place. I was only digging myself a deeper hole.

"But no one would ever know.

"When I had drawn level with him, I passed him by, and then, with a sudden thrill, grabbed him and forced him to the ground. I had no easy way to kill him. Instead, I clubbed him to death. It was only after he stopped moving that I held back my blows. I stared at him, my heart pounding, a smile flickering on my face.

"As I said, though, I was hungry. He never protested what I did next.

"I went back to where I had been sleeping and lay down after cleaning myself up. I felt sickening guilt creeping up on me and nearly vomited up what I had just eaten. What was I doing? What was I _thinking?_ Clearly I wasn't thinking at all; who kills an innocent passerby?

"My lack of thought persisted the next day.

"I began to scare myself with my lack of rationality. Before this I was timid, frightened, afraid. I was slowly growing bolder—I was losing my restraints, my ethics, my sanity. The phrase 'They can only execute you once,' became almost my creed.

"I wasn't foolish enough to stay in one place. I couldn't afford to. My lust for the thrill of killing, to hold that ultimate power over someone, in short, to play God, continued to drive me. After so long it became too little to have just one victim. I would follow them instead of taking their life, follow them home to their family, only to murder them as they slept.

"It became an obsession. I had to have it. I began to find new ways to heighten the thrill. I would make them know it was me who was doing it. I would make them watch me slowly tear the life from their bodies. I would force mothers to watch as I killed their young, snapped their necks eagerly before the sobbing parents. I coated myself in their blood, inhaling its scent, wallowing in it—doing anything I can to drag out the sensation just a little longer.

"My victims—all others—they aren't beings anymore. They're things. Objects. Tools for my pleasure. And then, all of a sudden, it just hit me.

"I had become a horrible, horrible monster.

"I had been a simple, honest being. I had been a good friend, a good citizen—one fight, and I had spiraled down into madness. I had become what I had hated and loathed—what I still hate and loathe. But this—this is me.

"It became clearer. So what if you can see the darkest, most evil places of my soul? So what if I display them for all to see? No one will ever change this animal I have become. I could kick and fight scream for help—but it would do nothing. I haven't changed—I've simply unleashed what was inside me all this time. What's inside all of us.

"So now you know why. And now—you _die_."

"No—no—please—_no!_"


End file.
